Lost but Reborn
by redbeanleaver
Summary: It is the 129th death anniversary of the Substitute Shinigami, and he has finally been reborn as a spirit. However, none know of his rebirth, and with enemies lurking about, he must pick his way carefully around Soul Society. Because Kurosaki Ichigo is back, but he is back as a lost 9 year old boy. T for some cursing, Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first one, and I don't own anything. Enjoy:D**

Rukia stood in front of the memorial statue in stony silence.

Behind her, like a lantern in the night, the lights of the festival glowed. The noise of the party came broken and faded due to the distance. Her friends were probably waiting for her, down at the festival. Her subordinates were probably searching for her, deep in the barracks. Her clan members were probably summoning her, waiting at the manor. She should probably leave now, away from this far away hill in the night. But she stayed, her violet eyes heavy before the stone statue.

It was a cool night, and Rukia felt colder looking at the memorial statue. Erected out of grey stone, it was easily 15 feet tall, larger than life. But then, he always seemed larger than life to strangers. She could be considered very lucky. Compared to others who only knew of his battle prowess, she also knew the one who overslept and rushed to school in mornings.

For the most part, they had gotten his features right. His high cheekbones, furrowed eyebrows, and broad frame were captured perfectly. He was standing straight like a victorious warrior, one hand on his sword hilt and the other gripping his mask. For a moment, if she focused, Rukia could almost imagine those carved stone locks becoming a vibrant orange, and those long stiff hands becoming soft with skin, and the blank grey eyes becoming warmer than honey and deeper than chocolate.

But that was an illusion, and the Lieutenant of the Thirteenth Squad didn't keep illusions.

So she looked long and hard at the statue of Kurosaki Ichigo, Masked Visard, Substitute Shinigami, and forced herself to accept that this was the day his 129th death anniversary.

It was never supposed to be like this. He was supposed to come back from his last battle, grinning and scowling at the same time, with Aizen dead behind him.

He was never supposed to fall with the pseudo-god, never supposed to outlive him by a mere six minutes. He was never supposed to die at the too young age of 16.

But as mentioned before, the Lieutenant of the Thirteenth Squad didn't keep illusions, and she knew in her head they did die together.

So why couldn't her heart realize that too?

Behind her, the festival suddenly burst with more cheers. Briefly turning, Rukia wondered if Renji had lost another wrestling competition. She smirked. At least _he_ was enjoying the festival.

"_Hey, midget?" He was dying, despite Unohana and Inoue's best efforts. She could feel him draining away._

_"What, berry-head?" She looked desperately into his amber eyes._

_He coughed out more blood. "Don't hold a sad funeral. Make it a huge festival."_

_She couldn't hold back anymore tears. He went on talking. "I don't want anyone sad for my sake. Promise me Rukia."_

_Through her tears, she managed to say, "I promise Ichigo."_

_He gave a small smile in return. Suddenly, he hacked out more blood, and his wounds bled out faster. She panicked, and began to yell at him._

_"You're not going to die!" she screamed, pounding the ground with her fists. "You're not going die on me!"_

_ They both knew it was a lie, an illusion, but she clung onto it like she was drowning._

Let him live_, she begged as Ichigo coughed violent sprays of blood,_ Let this illusion become real, and let him live.

_But when he took his last shuddering breath, Rukia knew fate was too cruel to grant her wish. So she dropped all illusions._

"It has been 129 years, Ichigo," she murmered softly to the stone. "It has been 129 festivals."

She took a step closer and touched the base of the statue. "It's a holiday now, Ichigo."

She looked up at the still face of her dead friend. The statue made no response.

And because she held no illusions to her heart, she added three more words before turning to leave.

"I love you."

**Please review:D**


	2. Chapter 2

**My plan for this is to reveal as little as possible, cuz I have a pet peeve for spoilers. I own nothing, and enjoy!**

_His father looked at him with red-rimmed eyes._

_"Ichigo? Is that you?"_

_"What Goat Chin? Of course it's me."_

_"They told me you died! That you died with Aizen!"_

_"Dad, calm down! I'm not dead! And who is this Aizen anyway?"_

_Silence pressed down on the room._

_"Ichigo, what is a shinigami?"_

_"A shinigami? What's with the random question?"_

_"Tell me!"_

_"Alright, alright! I guess they're like, I dunno, some myth or some crap?"_

_His father rushed to his mother's poster with the usual drama._

_"Oh Masaki! What should I do? Our son does not know what a shinigami is!"_

_Ichigo watched with exasperated eyes._

_He never noticed his father's tears were real._

* * *

Awakening came in the form of light that was far too bright. It shone its way through his eyelids and forced it brilliance into his floating dreams. He unwillingly followed its orders and opened his eyes.

The sky above was a splash of blue with a burning white fire he instantly recognized as the sun. The wind cooled the heat from his skin, and momentarily he enjoyed the luxuries of a perfect weather and listened to the whispers of swaying grass as he lay on his back. But all too soon he realized that one does not fall asleep on a hospital bed and wake up outside on the grass.

Jolting upwards, he began to turn his head to get a clearer view on his surroundings. But something strange caught his eye first, and turning his head down onto his legs, he stared at it with renewed shock. Because his once frail, sick limbs were now taunt with smooth flesh and glowing with a healthy hue. He held up his hand in front of him. Old, loose skin now fit as perfect as a rubber glove, and scars gathered over the course of decades were lost in the unblemished fingers. He felt his face. No longer did it have the crooked nose from the brawl a few decades back; it left a smaller, straighter nose in its place. His face felt firm, so alien to the wrinkled mess he had just the night before. And, daring his hands to go higher, was the instantly familiar and yet long lost orange spikes growing like weeds on his formerly bald head.

He could have laughed with joy. To think that this ancient man could suddenly be thrown back into youth. But if he was honest with himself, he had expected something like this for a long time now. It really wasn't as surprising as it should have been for a man of his age. Although stubborn to the point of ridiculousness, he was never slow-witted, and there was only one obvious conclusion to this madness.

Kurosaki Ichigo, age 145, was dead.

Really, it was to the point of a miracle that he had lived for so long. While alive, he had been the source of millions of doctors and more's consternation and curiosity. Not that he had ever let them run tests on him. He was an old man (an understatement to many) and deserved some well-earned rest.

While he would sometimes toy with the idea that the world would back down its interest of him just from the wishes from a tired senior, Ichigo was no sentimentalist. After all, he had spent over 50 years as a doctor; he knew the minds of his fellow colleges too well. Only his numerous students of medicine had protected him from being the target of testings and media.

Thinking back on his energetic students, Ichigo inwardly grinned. They had shielded him with what they could do and kept him as healthy as humanly possible at his age. Now he could finally give up the position of being protected and protect once more.

The wind blew again, messing his returned hair as if to shake him out of his thoughts. Leaving his thoughts be, he returned to the situation at hand. Because he was always a man of action, and even being bedridden never stopped him from being active. Now that he was freshly dead and out of a crumbling body (was his body ever this light?), he had half an idea to run from one corner of the afterlife to the other.

Getting up was a struggle to the Ichigo who was used to an old body's malfunctions. Old aches so constant they had almost been forgotten had disappeared along with his wrinkles, and it unnerved him to the point where he had to sit back down. Obviously, he would have to get used to this new body. A short break later, he stubbornly tried again, and this time managed to stand up on shaky legs.

Wobbling on his now small feet, the 145 years old soul breathed in the crisp air of the grassy afterlife and let out a delighted laugh made of not familiar old brass but spun of a new cut-glass clear sound.

He recognized nothing of this world, but little did he know that once, in another life, he was its savior.

* * *

"Sir! Sir!"

The head of the group turned his head to the newest member of the 12th Division.

"What?"

The scientist cowered under his harsh reply. He shyly held up a paper with coordinates and a map on it.

"I-In the 16th d-district there has been a sudden rise of sp-spiritual energy, sir," quavered the man, boy really. He raised a nervous finger to the paper and tapped on a small red dot on the map. "A-around here, sir."

The group leader ruffled his hair and snatched the paper out of the trembling hand. His job was a pain when things like this popped up in his right before his lunch break. Sighing, he decided to push the work onto someone else.

"Here," he shoved the paper back into the boy's hand. "Go figure it out yourself as your first assignment. And don't bother me. You need to learn how to find things out yourself."

Like a proud goose, he swelled up with anticipation."Yes, sir!" he shouted happily before skipping off to his computer.

The head of the group almost grinned. Kids were too easy to fool. It was probably going to be some fool releasing his zanpakto for training, since he noticed on the map the signal appeared in an empty field. What would it be other than that? The Substitute Shinigami coming back to life? He chuckled.

Ridiculous.


	3. Chapter 3

Rukongai, he realized quickly, was not heaven, despite being the home of the dead.

This realization came six blocks deep in the first place he could find when he was busy throwing punches at some bulky man's nose. Behind him cowered three kids clutching onto a stolen jug of water.

Though karate classes were a hazy memory, his body had immediately fallen into a fighting stance the moment he landed from his first drop kick. It felt bitterly nostalgic for some reason, familiar and yet forgotten.

As he turned for a roundhouse kick to a different man's stomach, he threw a glance behind him, only to inwardly groan in frustration when seeing the brats were still there. Honestly, they see a chance to run and they just sit still like stumps? They had _legs_, damn it, use them! They were working fine before he started the fight, and he didn't see anything wrong with them now!

_Kids_, he thought with irritation, _Never knowing when to run._

In the middle of dodging a wooden staff, Ichigo briefly pondered why this situation tickled his brain like déjà vu.

_The masked monster rushed forward, bared teeth gleaming in the moonlight._

_He stood his ground, he will not run- could not run- not with his younger sister behind him bleeding out her life on the pavement and his father lying half-dead in what remained of the kitchen-_

_"Fool!"_

_Something, _someone,_ stepped in front of him, black robes billowed like wings and with a silver-streaked sword cut into the bone white teeth._

_But the jaws still closed on her in a hungry embrace and blood sprayed in fans._

An incoming fist out of the corner of his eye shook him out of his vision. Ducking a blow, he quickly executed a chop to the man's temple, effectively sending him on his knees, knocked out cold.

Inwardly, he berated himself for losing focus in a fight. Flashbacks he had no memory of had no place while enemies were still up and punching.

But thinking back to the brief scene that flashed in his mind, he unconsciously frowned. The woman who stepped in front of him (he was almost certain she was a female) never turned her face towards him, and he in turn couldn't conjure up anyone who had the same black robes and small frame. Therefore it was logical he had never known her face, and that she was a stranger.

So why did he feel like, had the stranger turned even the slightest inch, he would recognize her every feature and call out to her by name?

A whimper tugged him back to reality again. Quickly scanning the group of adults, he noted with not little satisfaction that they would be asleep for a while.

Huffing out a breath out of annoyance rather than exhaustion, Ichigo stored away all questions till later. Straightening his back, he turned to examine the trio of brats he just saved.

A raven-haired child who couldn't have been more than 5 physically (since he himself looked younger than his years, he didn't count on it), was knocked out cold much like the adults behind him. Another had her eyes wide open and they reflected a grey blend of fear and shock. Her hair was roughly cut short and coated with so much dirt he could barely see the mess of blonde hair beneath. She looked to be older, maybe 7? 8? Somewhere there.

He could have rolled his eyes. A few days of trekking across the random field he first arrived in and all he got out of it were gutless kids and a fight.

Well, mostly gutless kids, he amended when he felt the last one glaring holes into him.

The third one, obviously the leader from the way the others were pushed behind him, also had black hair, looked to be around nine, and Ichigo noted that though trembling a little, he met his eyes squarely and was obviously not backing down. He reminded him of himself in his teenage years, stubborn and unrelenting.

But, using his gathered wisdom through the decades, he knew such a boy would not last in a cruel environment like this.

In fact, none of them would last. The younger boy was too young and so, judging by how he passed out, had neither the stomach nor ability for fights. The girl was too easily distracted, and her slow reflexes would lead to her demise. The leader was too stiff and didn't have the strength to bend others to his will before his own snapped.

The said leader was staring at him intently, as if waiting for something. Suddenly, Ichigo realized that he had said something, and he stopped his observations to stare dumbly at the boy.

"What?"

For someone talking to the guy who saved them, he was surprisingly blunt. "I said," he said with narrowed eyes, "what do you want?"

Ichigo just looked at the boy dumbfounded.

"You're after our water, aren't you?" he barged onwards, completely ignoring the frantic looks of warning his female companion gave him. "Well, you can't have it!" He leaped up onto his feet and ran towards him, fists raised to attack the orange haired boy.

_Feet too close, hands too high_, he vaguely thought before easily sidestepping the attack with silken steps.

Again, his movements were alien to his memory but his limbs seemed to find them as old friends. And he could have sworn up and down the street he had never been able to scan an opponent like he could now.

The boy's attack pattern was an open book and he wasted too much energy in useless movements. Ichigo picked up every movement and every breath to piece together a crude but accurate image of every opening available.

Never striking back, Ichigo continued to only dodge the messily thrown blows, knowing it would frustrate his opponent, and that anger would blunt his attacks even further.

He didn't have to wait long. Following Ichigo's expectations exactly, hook, line, sinker, he overthrew his last punch. A light tap on his back resulted into him tumbling spectacularly onto the dirt.

It was confirmed. This boy's grave will join the others on the outskirts of the place in less than two weeks.

Jumping back up, he glared up at the 145 year old soul with fire-filled green eyes. Eyes never leaving Ichigo's face, he yelled to the girl, "Himeko! Take Satou and run!"

The harsh scratching sound of running on a dirt road reached his ears soon after. He kept his eyes locked onto the downed kid in front of him though.

After confirming his companions had run away, the boy leap back onto his feet. Though he had just proved how much stronger he was, the boy raised his fists to attack again.

A few days in and everyone he met tried to beat him to the ground.

Ichigo felt pity for those expecting eternal bliss after death.

Holding up his hands in front of him in a gesture of peace, he declared, "Hey! I'm not here to fight!" After a thought, he added, "And I don't want your water!"

That stopped the boy. He lowered his fists in confusion.

"Then what _do_ you want?"

Ichigo shrugged in reply.

He remembered he had come with some goal, but had forgotten somewhere between drop-kicking a man's back and breaking another's nose.

"Well, you picked a crappy place to take a stroll in, idiot," stated the boy. Walking forward and past Ichigo, he bent over to pick up the forgotten jug of water. Apparently the boy and water was too heavy for the girl, and she had left in favor of a friend.

He said nothing, and Ichigo was far from the social type either.

All things considered, just standing there for a moment didn't feel too bad, though.

But of course, as always, the peace was punctured by a question.

"How old are you?"

Ichigo shot him a strange look, but the boy's back was still turned on him.

"I mean, you'd have to have been here a while to learn to fight like that," explained the raven head to the wall of the alley.

"Just got here a few days ago."

He whipped around and unabashedly stared at the new soul.

In a voice colored with disbelief he half-yelled, "You're practically a _baby_!"

Ichigo scowled at him.

"And?"

There was just enough venom in his voice to remind the brat who sent him tumbling without a single punch.

The boy chose not to reply. Wise move.

After a moment's silence, he spoke again. "Name's Akisame."

"Ichigo," he stated in turn.

Akisame nodded and pointed to the lifeless bodies on the ground. "Let's get out of here; I don't wanna see their ugly mugs any longer."

"Agreed."

As he left with Akisame, Ichigo received a gurgle from his stomach and suddenly remembered what he came here for.

"Do you have any food?" he inquired to the raven haired boy. Akisame gave an unexpected look of surprise to him.

"You're _hungry_?" said the boy in a mildly shocked voice.

Ichigo scowled in return.

But before he could reply, another curtain of black pressed down on his mind, and he was lost in another vision.

_There was a parakeet in a cage. A blurred figure was talking to it. She was wounded._

_"Don't worry! Soul Society is a place where you have nothing to be afraid of!"_

_Silence was all the reply the bird gave._

_The figure continued on. "Such as never being hungry, your body feels light, and it's 9 times out of ten better than this world!"_

_The parakeet gave the same reply._

Ichigo gasped and stumbled back, clutching his temples. His fingers were clammy, and pain flashed in white lightning bolts.

_…never being hungry…_

Go away, he silently begged, and to his enormous relief, images slowly ebbed away like the tide.

"Ichigo? Hey, earth to Ichigo!"

"Huh? What?"

He snapped his head towards Akisame, blinking the leftover sting of the pain away.

"I _said_," Akisame drew out the word, "that souls usually don't get hungry. We don't have enough reiatsu to be. Only the Shinigami and others with high reiatsu get hungry."

He glanced down at his stomach.

"Oh. Must be a stomach fluke then."

"Or you need to take a dump," came the crude reply.

Ichigo scowled at him. Akisame cheekily grinned back before running away from him on bare feet.

"Come back here, idiot!" he yelled, pushing the newest non-memory from his brain.

But before it completely escaped his conscious line of mind, Ichigo vaguely questioned why, for some reason, he thought for a split second that the woman talking to the bird was a freeloader.

* * *

By the next day, Ichigo knew for certain that this was no fluke. The constant groans and complaints from his stomach and the pinching sensation that made his limbs grow weak led to the obvious conclusion even a baby would know.

He was hungry, regardless of his state of death. And he was going out to find some blasted food.

One would think at death he would find peace (the entirely misleading Rest In Peace acronym), but instead he got to tramp all over the shabby district to find some unsuspecting vendor who didn't give him too big of an evil-eye.

Which was much more work than it should have been. His orange hair, always the source of his problems, stood out far too loudly for his taste and attracted looks like moths to a flame.

At least he was tiny. He hadn't been too pleased when Akisame told him he looked to be around 9. Granted, it was far better than being stuck in an old man's body, but still. Being this young was frustrating given his real age.

He left the three-some he had being staying with some harebrained excuse of a bathroom. Supposedly, many were out looking for reiastu loaded souls, and not all with decent purposes. The last thing he wanted was any of the kids sprouting tales of his tell-tale hunger and bringing him nose-deep with thugs and gangs.

They stayed in a shack on the outskirts of the district, a smart move considering how many vengeful victims they had stolen from. Made out of rotting boards, the abandoned shack was hardly suitable for any human, living or dead, but beggars can't be choosers.

His stomach gave another growl, and its complaint made him focus harder.

Scowling, he swore to his mind that he would find some blasted food in this screwed up afterlife.

Unknowing to him, his mind replied back.

* * *

Renji glanced at the towering piles of paperwork and rubbed an old wound.

It hurt, more often than not nowadays, with a dull throbbing that ached especially before it rained.

It was a painful reminder of the one who gave him the cut. Not that he needed it to remember the stupid strawberry.

_The sun flooded orange and his blade gleamed red._

_The air hummed with unspoken power._

_He raised Zabimaru to deliver the final blow to this thief who held Rukia's powers like a cane to walk on, who had no idea who Rukia really was._

_Because he knew, head and heart, the orphan he stole with, buried friends with, late to class with…_

_But not left behind with-no, his cowardly heart made sure of that._

_He was alone from then on._

_Roaring his pain to the sunset skies, he swung his soul to kill._

_His blade was stopped._

_"Sorry to keep you waiting, Renji."_

_A lifted head revealed eyes rimed with white-blue fire._

_"I will now put all of my will,"_

_Another blade was raised and the air burst into songs of power._

_"Into defeating you!"_

_The blade swung down and met his flesh._

_Blood sprayed into the orange sky._

_As he opened his mouth to scream out the name of the one he ran away from, his eyes turned to the heavens where a few stars began to appear, as if to laugh at his demise._

_Because they knew as he did he could never hope to reach her._

Old memories of a time when he was weak. Now, in the future, he privately wondered what Ichigo would be doing now.

Paperwork was a bitch that he knew Ichigo probably wouldn't have put up with. His bet was that the strawberry would shunpo himself out the window at the mere _mention_ of papers.

If he was still alive, that is.

The wound throbbed again. Renji winced once then murmured a curse.

He was stronger now, but still too weak.

He hadn't been able to save Rukia from her grief yet, after all.

* * *

After a successful swipe from a distracted street vendor, Ichigo was busy shoving his mouth with as much bread as his cheeks would allow. The bread was stale with a desperate need of flavoring, but his empty hole of a stomach saw it as nothing less than pure food gold.

The meal was gone far too fast. He leaned back in the dark alleyway he was hiding in and sighed dispassionately.

He was considering going back to steal more until something brushed the back of his mind.

_A smile like bleached bone grinned savagely._

He clutched his head and tried to push it away. Instead, it came on with greater strength.

_"… difference between a king and his horse, Ichigo?"_

No, stop. He clawed his hair in desperate attempts to shut down whatever trickled in from the core of his memories because it _hurt,_ damn it, it wasn't stopping, it hurt so much…

_"…not horse and King anymore, Shiro." His voice echoed it the watery landscape as he reached out to the white figure in front of him._

_His bleached copy roared his bitter laughter to the flooded skies of his inner world. His voice held contempt and his black-blue tongue cut out every word he spat._

_ "Then what are we, Ichigo, huh? Hollow and shinigami stuffed in the same damned soul to be forever damned to fight with the same damned result! That's all we are, damn it, damn it all Ichigo!"_

He had to keep it under control, had to stop this madness, he knew he was pouring out what they called reiatsu in rivers, he had to shut it down…

It just hurt way too much.

He gave one last desperate tug, and finally, _finally, _the memories began to drip back slowly like syrup. Encouraged by this turn of events, Ichigo kept tugging with a stubborn will, that he would _get this thing under control, _and he would not succumb to these cursed flashes of memories he didn't recognize…

_"No, partners now, dumbass Hollow. Not a King and his horse. Partners now."_

The last of the white figure was disappearing like a pulled drain, but he managed to glimpse a confused yet surprisingly happy emotion under those black and yellow eyes.

His last words still hummed in his ears like a lullaby.

_"Partners now."_

The figure, Hollow or Shiro, gave a final smirk before swirling away altogether, taking with him Ichigo's conscious thought as he slipped into a blessed black abyss.


	4. Chapter 4

Kuchiki Shunsuke watched his best friend fight with seniors double her size and age. He sipped a water bottle calmly with a regal air of a noble even as she sent a bulky male flying right by him. _One_, he silently counted. Unlike the many fans he had to drive out, he had the courtesy to _not_ leap up and scream like a barbarian. He was a Kuchiki, and his pride would never allow that sort of uncivilized behavior.

But even he had to admit, Kurosaki Karin was excellent in all that she did. Her Kido's power was unrivaled even without incantation. Her speed left other students in the dust. She could easily take down students with her honed combat skills like she did now. And her Zanpakto, forever in released shikai, made other swords look like twigs in comparison. She was the Shino Academy's star student of the century.

He watched distantly as she judo-flipped a tall student onto another. _Two. Three._

Karin was adopted by the Thirteenth Division Captain Ukitake Jushiro. Out of respect for the dead Substitute Shinigami, he had named her Kurosaki Karin instead of Ukitake.

Or so he said. Shunsuke knew better.

Karin ducked under an incoming kick and made quick work of the senior with punches to the stomach and temple. _Four._

Taking her adoptive father and moon-based attacks into consideration, many had foolishly dubbed her "Moon Princess." Foolishly because Karin had no interest in nobility. She was only interested in seeing whether or not you could stand up in a fight.

A kick to the back of the knees sent another stumbling enough for her to deliver a roundhouse to the unguarded head. _Five._

Many held grudges against her. Powerful, good connections, and a beauty at the physical age of 16, how could she _not_ be the source of envy? And yet, with a strange pattern worthy of the Substitute Shinigami, all who met her with intentions to fight ended up as her most loyal companions. No one could say how. It just happens.

_Like it did with me,_ he thought distractedly while Karin dealt a fierce punch to a girl's abdomen. _And six._

She stood victorious over six groaning students. As if by a cue, Shunsuke stood up from his seat and wordlessly tossed a towel and water bottle to the raven-haired girl. She caught it without even a glance.

A 'Thanks' was voiced and she gulped down the liquid. He quietly observed.

She _was_ very pretty, beautiful to some. She had many admirers, most of which he tried to drive off. A slender frame and smooth skin were only some of the attributes that made her so desirable. Her most prominent traits were her deep gray eyes and ebony black hair tied up behind her head.

Just like the original Kurosaki Karin.

He was no fool. Looking up Kurosaki Ichigo's sister had shown pictures (taken by Matsumoto Rangiku for some strange reason) of a girl who could have easily been his best friend a few years younger. The original had died at the age of fifty. The 12th division estimated Karin was around sixty to fifty years old.

As far as he knew, no one but the higher officers knew the truth that Kurosaki Karin of the Shino Academy was Substitute Shinigami's sister Kurosaki Karin. And he himself would never tell her the truth. It was her life, regardless of it was the past or not, and should she want to know, he would tell. But until then, he wanted to enjoy the company of the Academy's star student.

Because the moment she became the _other_ Karin, she would be forever out of his reach. He was born from one of the Four Noble Families, yes, but she was the sister to the Hero of the Winter War and daughter of the former 10th Captain. Their different status' would never allow friendship like they had now.

"Oi!" A long finger flicked his forehead painfully, jolting him back to reality.

He winced and caught her hand. "What the hell, Karin?"

She gave an infuriating smirk that reminded him, yet again, that she had managed to break through his 'noble bullshit' as she dubbed it. Only Karin managed to do that, annoyingly enough.

"You were zoning out, _idiot_." She twisted the hand he was holding on and grabbed his wrist. Still holding onto his hand, she pulled out her schedule and began to drag him out of the gym.

"Let's see… We have an hour before our field trip to the Living World," she read out-loud while walking in front of him. She smushed the paper back into her pocket and turned around. "You wanna grab something to eat?"

Her grey eyes were wide open, looking straight at him with such force his brain froze for a second.

"Sure," he muttered, trying to look away. Anywhere but those eyes that were too bright and too similar to _hers_.

She nodded and continued down the hallway. He in turn continued to look away, choosing the more favorable option of glowering at anyone staring at Karin with the best death-glare he could muster in his distracting situation.

Karin holding his hand, after all, was very distracting.

* * *

In the shadowy swirl of Ichigo's mind, memories like fireflies passed by, sometimes landing lightly on his eyelids, sometimes not.

_"Thank you, sir. Without you, Oriko might have died." Beneath the formal wording he saw tears of relief and joy._

_He offered a wan smile and with wrinkled yet surprisingly steady hands pointed to himself. "I'm a doctor, and it's a doctor's duty to save lives. I was just doing my duty, like you do yours."_

_The soldier was clearly not done yet. "But you, not even a soldier, at the risk of your own life, have entered the field under fire and performed surgery on the spot." He saluted him with his chest thrown outward. Ichigo almost felt embarrassed at such a display of gratitude._

_"Some of my friends would call that 'pig-headed stupidity,' you know," he commented awkwardly to the still saluting soldier._

_Never the less, when the 89 year old surgeon stepped off the plane, back from the front-lines, he was welcomed with a formal military ceremony and was rewarded a medal for his 'pig-headed stupidity.'_

He had patched up a young man of 23. _Three bullets wounds on each lung, another lodged above his collarbone, excessive internal bleeding, popped artery,_ he distantly recalled, remembering even now the wounded soldier's condition. That was his last operation before retirement. Remembering the ceremony, he recalled wishing all his friends were still alive to celebrate with him.

_The wedding day was pure white, and he wished nothing less than a blessed life for the newlywed couple. Nothing made him happier than to watch his students find happiness in their lives, and seeing two of them find joy in each other almost wrung tears out from him._

_Damn, he was getting sentimental. And only at the age of 45._

_Dressed in white lace, the bride, Yuki, tauntingly called out to him from the head of the table, "Dr. Kurosaki, when are _you_ going to get married and have kids that _we_ can teach?"_

_The table erupted in good-humored laughter and nearby guests jabbed him lightly in the ribs. He himself laughed too, and replied, "Kids are going to shorten my life, and God knows you two have already cut out decades."_

_After another round of laughter, the groom, Narahara, chose to speak up. "Then we haven't done a good enough job yet; I was under the impression that we cut out at least a century."_

_This time the entire hall laughed in agreement. The groom, drunk with happiness, leaned over to Yuki and pecked her cheek. Giggling merrily, she hugged his arm. Ichigo just gave a rare grin and stored this image in his heart for a long, long, time._

_Narahara, Yuki_, he murmured to the dark, turning their names over and over again in his mouth. They were such a gifted pair, with more wit in their pinkies than most couples had in their entire bodies. They had constantly joked on the fact that he was unwilling to get married and have a family. It wasn't as if he had no possible choice of women, since he was rather good-looking. It also wasn't that he disliked children. He just found no point since, from Ichigo's point of view, his beloved students were his adoptive children.

_Still dressed in graduation robes, they sat around a café chatting excitedly about their futures. Ishida would be attending fashion school. Chad planned on law. Inoue had chosen nursing. Keigo favored business. Mizuiro into film and television. Tatsuki pursued teaching._

_When it was his turn, he simply said, "Surgeon."_

_They all clamored to know why. He shrugged and frowned. "Just want a job that I can save people with."_

_Inoue started to cry. Alarmed, Ichigo shot upwards from his seat. "Inoue! What's wrong?"_

_She hiccuped and tried to wipe her tears away. After a moment she lifted her head and gave a watery smile. "It's just like Kurosaki-kun –_hic_- to want to save people."_

Now, 145 years old and dead, he fondly remembered his old friend. Always happy and bubbly, she managed to find love and after getting married, had moved out of Japan. Her husband was a tall, pale, black-haired man with piercing green eyes. Or at least they said that's how he looked. He had never met Ulquiorra Cifer in real life.

But what was the point of these memory flash-backs? If this was the fabled 'Life passing before your eyes,' it was disappointingly late.

A watery voice that drove goose bumps over his arms answered his thought.

_Shut it, Ichigo. Shove this into that thick skull of yours and remember, bastard._

And even before the voice's echo fully disappeared, something crashed onto him in a storm of senses.

_Fighting broke the deserted land into dust. Mountains crumbled, air exploded, ground crackled. And yet, miraculously, his right arm stayed intact after parrying blow after blow from the wickedly white blade._

_Explosions burned the air and drew colossal clouds of destruction. His left arm was merely burned red. His opponent was moving faster than sound could hope to match. He easily kept in pace with him. The sword was swung. He caught it bare-handed._

_Time and time again the opponent tried to attack. Time and time again he failed. Ichigo felt it, even in this faded memory, the power that was his. It was too immense for measure, too impossible for words. He raised his arm to strike the last blow._

Was this a memory? If it was, he recognized nothing. It was too violent, too incomprehensible. It could have been a fight of two beings so powerful they were impossible existences, not of this world. And yet everything tugged at him like a fishing line, familiar in the way a once known but forgotten language was.

_Remember, you bastard, _came the haunting voice from the black_. Remember yourself._

Before he could even think up of a reply, another memory that was not forced itself under his eyelids.

_Eight figures stood in the upper levels of the warehouse._

_"Well, well… seems like you finally found our hiding spot…," A blond with a cap grinned a Cheshire smile at him._

_"…Ichigo."_

The memories were getting shorter and faster.

_"She's your sister!" he yelled futilely. His opponent didn't waver._

_Ichigo gritted his teeth and gripped his sword tighter. He obviously won't change with words. So be it. He was always better at convincing through force anyway._

_The man in front of him may be a head of a noble clan and a shinigami captain, but above all he was a brother. And he was going to remind him what that meant._

It all rushed closer.

_Pop quiz, Ichigo. Who are you?_

A freshly dead soul.

_Bells tinkled in the background as the scarred giant before him sprouted blood from a chest cut._

_"What's this? So you _can_ do it after all…"_

_Yes, he thought. It's possible. I can win._

It was overwhelming.

_Again. Who are you?_

A surgeon who saved lives. A teacher who raised students to happiness.

_They were scattered on the dirt ground._

_"Whaa~! Kurosaki-kun's landing pose is so artistic!"_

Too much.

_Who are you!?_

A brother who lived too long past his sisters. A friend who saw the funeral of his old companions. A punk who never ran from a fight.

_She gave him a final glance with violet eyes blurred with unfallen tears. Then the doors slid shut and he was alone in the blood and the rain._

_Again._

Too much.

_WHO ARE YOU!?_

A healer, a teacher, a brother, a son…

_"It's not 'shinigami'..."_

A friend, a punk, a deceased, a senior, a boy…

_"It's 'Kuchiki Rukia.'"_

He was... he _is..._

Memory and thought spoke in unison.

_"Kurosaki Ichigo."_

"Kurosaki Ichigo."

Time stopped in the black abyss of his mind.

He is the Substitute Shinigami.

He is a protector.

_"…che, finally got it through your thick skull. Welcome back," _

The dark was receding.

_"…partner."_

* * *

Shunsuke numbly sat by his best friend, holding her limp hand. The field trip had gone all wrong. Huge Hollows had appeared out of nowhere. They reached for him. Karin blocked them. _Stupid girl, why didn't you run? Why did you stay?_

_Was it because I was your friend? _He clutched her hand tighter. _Or was it_, his eyes traveled to where her eyelids covered her damnably beautiful grey eyes, _the Kurosaki blood in you that pushes you to protect?_

A medic read out her condition, but he only distantly registered their words. His entire soul was taunt like a bow stretched too far, just a bit more and the whole thing would _snap_. He faintly heard snatches of words like _severe concussion._

Karin was strong. He knew it better than anyone else.

_…shattered ribcage…_

She was, after all, a Kurosaki who had an famous streak for being practically unkillable.

_…punctured liver…_

But why? Why did you have to be a Kurosaki…

_…possibly paralyzed…_

…if all it does is hurt you like this?

_…may not survive…_

The medic left. The young noble remained sitting. Just rubbing circles on her limp hand. He focused on nothing. Tears threatened to fall and blurred his vision of Karin. But he was strong. _They_ were strong. He was a Kuchiki by name and blood as she was a Kurosaki by name and blood. He was strong enough to hold tears in and lock them down.

_We must never shed tears. That is life's form of defeat and if we give in to the emotions then it only becomes proof of our inability to control it._

Just once, he wished that she was not a Kurosaki. That she could be just Karin, his best friend and the girl he loved most.

**Thank you for the reviews, please leave on on your way out, and the line "We must never shed tears" is from Bleach:)**


	5. Chapter 5

**There will be no new epic Quincy stuff here, sorry, and please enjoy as I will not be posting for a while:) Thank's for reading and please review!**

* * *

Waking up was like surfacing from a long dive. Popping his eyes open, he struggled to take a breath. Suddenly, a cry of fear tore through his ears. Then more cries of terror followed, lacing his soul with apprehension. Jolting upwards gave him an immediate grasp of the situation like a hard slap to the face.

A white masked stag beetle-ish monster one was running dead at him.

Hollow.

Instinctively, he rolled out of the way, just in time for the Hollow to crash into the wall behind him in a cloud of wood and dust. Not wasting time, he took advantage of the confusion and smashed his heel into the bone mask. It held for a single scary moment before letting out a sharp _crack._ The Hollow dispersed, roaring all the way.

But it wasn't over yet. More screams were mixed with the bone-chilling roar of soul-hungry beasts. Ichigo whipped his head around and ran out of the alleyway he was stuck in.

Entering the main street froze his stomach in dread. There were _dozens_ of them, screeching in the black sky. Thank God they were mostly flying; the invasion had only begun and the faster aerial Hollows arrived early. But not for long would they be alone; even now he could feel bigger Hollows approach like a cold bucket of slime on his back. Few had even begun to swoop down like hawks to ducking souls. He needed a plan to draw them away from the people. But how? He had no Hollow bait with him, not that he ever carried one around. He didn't need the risk of a disk stuffed with spiritual pressure along with his already Hollow magnet soul.

Wait. Hollow magnet soul.

Ichigo could have face-palmed himself right then and there. Was he stupid? He was a _Hollow magnet_!

Quickly, he focused on pouring out as much reiatsu as he could.

Nothing happened. He tried again. The same result.

Ignoring the urge to pull out his hair, he tried again and again. Nothing. Nothing. Nothingnothingnothingnothing.

Arggh! What did he usually do? It came to him so naturally he never bothered to learn theory.

The Hollows were getting braver. One managed to scratch someone with purple talons before taking off again. Damn it, he didn't have time for this! Feeling a few trickles of panic, Ichigo racked his old memory for information. Anything was fine, just how the hell does he release energy?!

_…picture a circle in your mind. Fill it with a deep dark color. Then I imagine myself moving towards the center of it._

"Ah! Got it!" He would have to thank that hog-loving Shiba someday.

Ignoring the strange looks running citizens gave him, he closed his eyes and tried again. This time, he mentally leaped into a midnight blue circle, begging to the heavens. _Please work, please work, please work…_

In a scream of power, the moonless night burned with a sudden tower of coiling blue fire. The nearly people collapsed to the ground from the sudden weight in the air. Twisting and coiling, his entire body burned with familiar heady rush of reiatsu and he felt _alive_.

Hollows shrieked and immediately dove for him, jaws barred wide enough for him to see their second set of teeth.

They never got the chance to touch him.

Feeling a nostalgic grin tug his face, he shunpoed and felt once again the speed that was his and his alone, the small body of his tingling with delight, or was that reiatsu, he didn't know, didn't care, he felt feverish, oh _God_ it was good to move this fast agai-

_Wham!_ Dust and grass went everywhere. Tumbling wildly and with limbs flying everywhere he frantically tried to brake. It was only after he plowed a long line of destruction that Ichigo managed to plant a foot down and abruptly stop himself.

_Mental note: work on landing_, he though as he tried to free his arms from under him.

Oh well, hopefully in his drunken rush of reiatsu he had poured out enough to attract all the attention to him. Though judging by the multiple stomps and screams, he might have done a _too_ good of a job. Maybe attracted all the Hollows in Soul Society.

Getting up revealed a nightmare: aerial monsters blotted the stars and bulky Huge Hollows surrounded the field. There was no escaping. Distractedly he noticed it was the same field he first arrived in. It had taken several days of trudging through grass to arrive at the district. It couldn't have been longer than a second of shunpo. Just how fast did he move?

There was no time to ponder further because out of the corner of his eye Ichigo saw smaller feline Hollows crouch back like a spring and hawk-like Hollows ready their wings for diving. He smirked despite his situation of facing an army of Hollows empty-handed.

Because he wasn't empty-handed. Reaching back over his shoulder, where he knew the old man would be, was his oldest comrade in battle. Gripping the familiar guardless hilt and hearing the silky sighs of unwounded bandages, Ichigo drew out the legendary sword that sent enemies to shock or laughter (seriously, who fights with an over-sized _kitchen-knife?_) and revealed the black and silver edge that so resembled a slice of the vengeful moon.

Wielding Zangetsu once more and facing down now easily hundreds of Hollows, he swore on his sword and soul that he was _not_ going to die in the same place he was reborn in.

Roaring their haunting screams, they sprung from ahead and behind and fell from the skies. Roaring his own battle cry, the age-old soul in a too-young body swung his soul down upon them all.

* * *

In the dark, two figures met in secret, not even daring to use candle light.

"He must have arrived by now," murmured one.

The other replied in an equally low voice. "It's possible he had died early in his arrival and has completely skipped over Soul Society."

"Even so, 129 years is long for any human. To a soul, especially one as powerful as him, 129 years is a mere trifle."

"As it has been with you? Do not play the fool, impatience will cut the fruit too early and leave a bitter taste behind."

"Indeed. But I fear as you have said, he has already been reborn in the World of the Living. Our chance may already be gone."

The other man shifted. "Then we shall have to deal the hammer onto another."

"Her? She is protected fiercely by the captains."

"Not so. You see, her benefactor can collapse yet again due to his unstable health. And the other can be sent on a mission to the Living World, by the command of Central 46. The rest have no power then. They cannot stop us."

"But you cannot believe the girl would willingly surrender."

"No, but she is in no condition to fight. There was, you can say, the most _tragic _accident in their trip to the Living World. The Fourth claim she will be unconscious for weeks, and maybe paralyzed for the rest of her life."

Silence filled the shadows. Then, with a wisp of amusement, the other muttered, "Am I to believe her _accident_ is the result of chance?"

In an equally amused voice, the figure replied, "Of course. You should know by now, however, that chance can be guided like a dog."

* * *

"Getsuga-" He drew his sword in a low circle,

"TENSHO!" A white crescent of reiatsu was swung upward; hitting at least ten Hollows but then the gap was quickly filled with more.

Damn, were there a lot. The ones in the air frustrated him the most. They would swoop down when he was distracted and thanks to their ambushes he had three nasty cuts on his shoulder.

But there was no time to think because a lumbering giant of a Hollow was preparing a blood-red cero. Ichigo leapt up and sliced him in half before he could fire. At the same time three more with starfish masks lunged at him with fangs longer than his body. He flipped over and sliced their legs off, but white plaster-ish substances bubbled on their leg stumps.

_High-speed regeneration,_ he thought wildly. _Like hell I'll let that happen!_

In three swift strokes, they were dissolving into black particles. Not that he stuck around to watch. One shinigami in the middle of too many Hollows called for constant timing.

Six more went down when he made deep slashes at their masks. One Hollow than sunk its teeth deep into his ankle was killed with a quick kick on its face. Another smashed into his left arm, popping it out of the socket. Ichigo in turn slammed Zangetsu's hilt into its face and popped his arm back while ducking a released cero. Two snake-like Hollows were gone when he used their faces as a springboard to cut a lion-ish one in half.

Dodging a strange vine-like arm from his right and a squid-ish arm from behind, Ichigo panted and killed yet another Hollow. Not even having time to wipe his sweat, he charged at another group of flying Hollows.

Even though he had already wiped out at least half of the original bunch, he was getting tired quickly. His ankle refused to stop bleeding as he had no time to bandage it, the cuts on his back may have been poisoned because his Hollow regenerative powers weren't working so far. And many more scratches, bruises, and welts than he care to think of at the moment.

What he wouldn't give to have Ishida here. His arrows were like a can of bug spray he really needed right now.

* * *

"Arms higher! Wider stance!" she barked. "How do you expect to kill any Hollows with that lazy form!?"

Rukia strode up and down the ranks, looking for slackers. Her keen violet eyes scanned the new recruits, still green from the academy. They were a normal batch, no Hitsugaya Toshiro's here. And all of them had less than satisfactory skills.

Sweat from the newly made shinigami glistened orange in the torchlight. She made it a practice that for every day and night of the first year, recruits must practice their swings with heavy wooden swords to build arm muscle. The older members called it the 'Hell Year with the Demon Vice.' Some continued. Many switched squads. Rukia didn't care. Those who had no resolve would never last anyway, and she'd rather not have them die on her watch. She had enough deaths on her back as it was.

"No slacking off!" she ordered to a pair of girls who were whispering to each other. They jolted upwards and yelled, "Hai!"

One lanky boy continuously slipped up to the point where Rukia couldn't ignore him much longer. It was strange though. In reports it had labeled him as being advance in fighting.

"Stop." They all gratefully lowered their arms. She walked over the boy.

"Name." He looked at her nervously.

"T-Tamura Nobu, Vice-Captain."

She gave a sharp nod and thrust out a hand behind her. "Someone give me a wooden sword."

The moment she felt the smooth leather handle of the practice sword, she whipped the tip of the stick to Tamura's sweating face, much to the shock of all.

"You," the sword was perfectly still, "are going to fight me."

"Huh? But Vice-Captain, I-I can't possibly-"

But Rukia was already bringing her sword to his unguarded neck. With a yelp, Tamura ducked and scrambled back. Rukia lowered her weapon and looked down at him. Seeing complete seriousness in her, he unsteadily rose to his feet and raised his weapon.

"Stop shaking!" she barked. "Put some muscle into your grip, bend your knees, and for _God's sake _don't be so scared!"

To his credit, he did all that she ordered minus the shaking. She couldn't figure out how he got such good grades in swordsmanship. Advantageous in height, but too thin for much brute force. Arms stuffed with rags and feathers, legs as solid as jelly, and frankly, didn't pose much of an intimidating atmosphere.

"_Now_," she raised her sword to face level again. "Again."

She rushed at him, using her petite height to duck under his clumsy swing and wack the sword out of his grip. It fell into the air before landing noisily on the pounded dirt ground.

Tamura rubbed his stinging hands while watching his weapon clatter. Rukia inwardly groaned. When a Hollow manages to disarm you, you don't stand there like some stunned goose and _watch_ your Zanpakto fall! You run like hell and get it before the Hollow gets you!

"Pick it back up."

"Hai!" He walked to his wooden sword.

"_Quickly,_" she stressed.

"Hai!" He ran and scooped up the stick by the blade, not the handle. If that were real metal it would cut through his fingers. Amateur.

When he stood up again, his form was still as shaky as ever.

"Listen, Tamura," Rukia started. "You have the highest grades in swordsmanship for a reason, and I want to know that it isn't from pity wins, alright?"

_Finally_ something seemed to click in his face and he nodded more firmly this time. "Hai!"

"Good! Now, begin!" She lunged for him once more, this time aiming for his ribs. However, he remained standing perfectly still even as the point drew closer and closer; this was going to leave a mark.

And then he was gone. Rukia only blinked in surprise for a moment before whipping around at lightning speed to block his strike. Then, with a twist of her wrist she knocked the sword out of his grip once more. But she was satisfied now. He didn't win by brute force, but by _speed_. And speed so impressive it was enough to take even a Lieutenant off guard.

She looked down at Tamura, who was crouching on the ground massaging his fingers.

"Good job." He looked up in surprise.

"Though in the future, learn to fix your form and don't rely completely on speed."

She turned and faced the entire group. "That goes for all of you. Speed is great, but it's not always the answer. Dismissed."

Rukia tossed the wooden sword back to the original owner. She fumbled with it once before grabbing it firmly on the blade and not the leather hilt. Rukia winced then sighed in exasperation.

Even Ichigo was never this much of an amateur.

* * *

"What the hell!?" An unfamiliar voice drew the attention of at least a dozen Hollows. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction Ichigo dispatched ten before sparing a glance to the direction of the voice.

Down below were two shinigami, a man and a woman, both looking stunned at the clouds of Hollows above them. What they failed to see was that there were Hollows on foot too, and two shinigami were looking rather tasty right now. A large centipede of a monster was rearing up right behind them with drooling jaws wide open.

"Idiots!" he cursed. Shunpoing as fast as he could and cutting down any who stood in his way, he raced to reach the pair before a set of teeth could.

"Behind you!" Yelling did no good, they were too slow, the Hollow was already upon them, he was almost there, just a bit more-

_Clang!_ Zangestu was there, jabbed right inside the bastard's mouth. With a grunt, Ichigo pushed the tip upward as hard as he could and pierced right through the mask from the inside out.

Giving no time for breaks, more Hollows descended upon them. Ichigo glanced wildly at the pair who was frozen in shock. Well, he was a sword-wielding, blood-covered brat fighting Hollows after all. They would be of no help here, but they could do something else. He reached up and punched the man in the face to wake him up.

"Listen up. Go back and tell them to send at least three captains to help kill off this bunch and if they say no give them a good kick in the- damn it!" He turned to block talons from yet another swooping Hollow. "These things never let up!"

He yelled over his shoulder, "Hurry up! We have a possibility of some Menos Grande forming here!"

Ichigo was done giving orders and hoped they were strong enough to make it out of here alive. Right now, he was too busy to give them any cover. He just hoped that he would last till morning and back-up would come sooner.

* * *

Jidanbo was taking his normal early just-before-dawn stroll when he felt the lingering presence of a Hollow. The giant widened his eyes. There was no mistaking the foul trail they left behind. Dropping to his knees, he began to follow the reiatsu. But what started as one small Hollow trail was joined by another, and another, and continued so much that the gatekeeper could easily imagine a parade of them storming through Rukongai.

Finally, when the air was so thick with the slimy feel of Hollows, he chanced upon a field. Or what was left of it. It was mostly overturned soil and smoking craters. The Hollows must have stopped here, but what for? A meeting? A feed-fest? A wild Hollow party? Unfortunately, Jidanbo was never the smartest shinigami.

Well, he figured they were all gone now, and nothing else really mattered, so he turned to leave. Suddenly, he heard a weak groan. The giant whipped around, axes ready, in case it was a remaining Hollow.

But no, it was a small, blood-covered figure in the center of the field, lying next to a shiny black object as long as he was tall. Curious, Jidanbo walked towards the figure, shaking the earth as he did.

What he saw confused him. There was a boy, maybe 9, dressed in the white robes of the freshly dead. Or, he amended, what _were_ white robes. Torn and bloodstained, he only recognized it by the remaining cloth's design. The kid was heavily injured and unconscious, but still miraculously breathing, albeit frowning while he did so. And though muted with dirt and blood, his hair shone an undeniable orange. Jidanbo frowned and scratched his chin. He could have sworn his face was familiar, maybe he was one of the brats who lived close by?

Then his gaze turned to the object that the kid was clutching by the hilt like a teddy bear, and his heart nearly stopped. Triangular in shape and wickedly sharp, Jidanbo stared with wide eyes the sword that had defeated him more than a century back.

"So that means…" He was finally putting the pieces together to form the obvious conclusion.

"…this brat is…" He slid his eyes back to the unconscious boy.

"… Ichigo's grandson!"

Like mentioned before, Jidanbo was never the smartest shinigami.

* * *

**Please leave a review on your way out the virtual door:)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello! I am back, and a really big thank you to those who reviewed! I am really grateful for them! But no more now, let the story begin!**

* * *

Eyeing the Head of his clan and current tea partner, Shunsuke tried to sip his drink in his most refined manner. He was still no match for the flawless grace of the noble before him.

But that was to be expected. No one in the whole of Soul Society could hope to match Kuchiki Byakuya.

While lowering his cup, he flicked a glance at Byakuya. The stoic noble was sitting straight-backed but somehow, not rigid. Eyes closed as if to saver the tea, the Clan Head's face was the definition of seriousness and serenity mixed in one.

For the fourth time since he entered the room, and the twelfth time since he received the summon via servant, the young noble wondered what exactly he was doing here. They had been here for over twenty minutes now, and he very much doubted that the Head of his clan would call him over for his less-than-satisfactory tea drinking skills.

Keeping his face very much blank, he mentally scowled. If his visit to his best friend's sickbed really was interrupted for a _tea party_ of all things, heads were going to roll.

Suppressing the growing desire to jump up and leave (he was a _Kuchiki _for God's sake, not an impulsively rash Shiba), Shunsuke attempted to break the less-than-tense atmosphere.

"Byakuya-dono," he spoke politely (only the suicidal or stupid or both dared to address him rudely), "May I ask why I have been called to your presence?"

With eyes still closed, the other noble simply sipped his tea elegantly. Shunsuke wondered if Karin's impatience was contagious and rubbed off on him.

The man sipped his tea again. Shunsuke's eye twitched.

It probably was.

Just when he was contemplating how he could excuse himself politely, Byakuya opened his mouth.

"You harbor close friendship with the Thirteenth Division captain's adoptive daughter."

It was not a question, but a statement of a fact. More than a little startled, he could only nod dumbly in confirmation.

The man was not done. "And you have been visiting her every day."

He nodded again. Where was he going with this?

This time, Kuchiki Byakuya lifted his eyelids and pinned him down with a powerful gaze. Shunsuke suppressed a shudder at the power behind the grey orbs and unconsciously straightened. Whatever this man was about to say screamed importance.

He uttered a single line.

"Stay away from her."

He blinked. What? _What_?

Before he knew it, Shunsuke dropped all aristocrat airs in shock and opened his mouth to speak when his Clan head continued as swiftly as a blade.

"She is to be charged with the crimes her older brother, Kurosaki Ichigo, committed in his infiltration of Soul Society during the Ryoka Invasion. The girl is to be executed in one week's time."

"That's not- she's not," He couldn't seem to get his mouth complete his sentences.

Giving no room for rest, the words still flowed out of the emotionless man. Shunsuke had no choice but to listen on with morbid horror.

"During the girl's surgery it was discovered that the two are blood siblings. In accordance to the law, the sins of her older brother must be passed onto her as he himself is not available for the punishment. In light of his heroic actions after his crimes of infiltrating Soul Society, however, she is allowed to be reincarnated, her soul not to be completely destroyed."

He knew his mouth was swinging open disgracefully, but for the love of God he couldn't give a penny's worth about manners at this moment. Something about this meeting was dawning upon his mind, and it made his stomach clench.

His voice cracked when he could finally will his tongue to move. "Why?" he croaked, half-knowing the answer already and dreading it still. "Why did you summon me?"

A pause. "At this very moment, Kurosaki Karin is being removed to the Repentance Cell. I would not have had you attempt to stop her removal."

Time stopped for him and he could only think three things in a grey daze.

Karin.

Removed.

Repentance Cell.

Karin. Removed. Repentance Cell. Karin. Removed. Repentance Cell.

_KarinRemovedRepentanceCellKarinRemovedRepentanceCe l KarinRemovedRepentanceCellKarin-_

On and on like a sick childhood melody.

_What the hell was he doing here!?_

Leaping up to his feet, caring little that he knocked over his cup, Shunsuke swiped his Zanpakto up from the floor and quickly spun towards the door. Before he could take even three steps however, a cold voice rang out behind his back.

"Where are you going?"

He hated how the simple four lettered question stopped him in his tracks.

With as much politeness crammed into his words, he wrung out, "To Karin."

"Do not be a fool," his voice was ice cold and Shunsuke cringed. "The reason I have summoned you here is for the sole purpose of stopping your recklessness. By rushing off to save her, brat, you lower yourself in the Elders' eyes. Should you even return alive, much less successful, you will never become the 29th Head. You will lose everythi-"

"Byakuya-dono," he cut in icily. "Do not presume that the Kuchiki Clan is my _everything. _I would willingly cast aside my inheritance for the sake of a friend, something that was taught by _Karin_."

"Do you believe I would let you do so?"

"No, but I will do it anyway."

There was silence, and though he still felt the piercing gaze on his back he continued on his way to the exit. Just when his fingers brushed the sliding door's handle though, Byakuya's voice rang out behind him once again.

"Bakudo 61, Rikujōkōrō."

The six yellow rods of light crashed into his side, rendering him immobile. He gasped and at the same time, Byakuya appeared before him like a ghost.

A hand rushed forward and with stunning accuracy stabbed his pressure point.

The world faded to black.

* * *

Jidanbo rubbed his chin thoughtfully, shifting his eyes between a turnip and a radish. Both ingredients had their merits, but which would best finish off his stew? He scratched his chin some more and scowled. Turnip? Radish? Turnip? Radish? Turnip? Radish?

Hmm…

Suddenly, he perked up in an unexpected epiphany. Smiling widely, he gathered both vegetables into his arms and tossed them into the boiling water.

When you can't choose one, take both! He mentally gave himself a pat on the back.

Humming lightly, he stirred the pot twice before performing a taste test. Satisfied with the flavor, he clamped a lid over the stew and lowered the flame. Now that that dilemma was over with, time to check up upon Ichigo's grandson.

Opening the door to the guestroom of his house, Jidanbo stepped inside and shut the door behind him quietly. Tiptoeing, he made his way to the boy.

In his opinion, the brat deserved credit for merely being able to breathe. Even with a body covered with gaping Hollow wounds he seemed to be relatively alive, though deeply unconscious. But then again, he was a Kurosaki; they were notorious for being as killable as a cockroach.

It also might have helped that he had unbelievably fast healing as well, the largest of gashes already scabbing over and the darkest of bruises fading to yellow-green. Jidanbo wondered how that was possible, when the only other times he had seen such speedy recovery was on some Hollows with high-speed regeneration. But again, the fact that he was a Kurosaki all but made it official that he would do the impossible.

He snorted ungracefully. Lucky little snot.

He was the same since he saw him last, orange hair blazing like a sunrise, eyes scrunched together into a scowl. Jidanbo had thrown away his bloodied excuses of a robe in the favor of a midnight blue one instead. Darker colors seemed to suit the kid better anyway, something he noticed with Ichigo.

Really, the resemblance between the brat and Ichigo was uncanny. One could even call them the same person but for the obvious fact that this boy was probably younger than ten.

Eyes frowning even as he slept, Ichigo's grandson snored on, one hand firmly grasped on his Zanpakto handle (if he didn't know better, he would say it was Zangetsu himself).

Jidanbo briefly toyed with the idea of attempting to remove the sword from his grip before pushing it out of his mind. The boy obviously didn't want to be separated from his partner, and Jidanbo respected that. He would feel the same with his Zanpakto.

So he got down to business instead, changing bandages and reapplying medicine as quickly as possible. After all, taking too long would lead to his stew burning, and Jidanbo would hate to see that happen right after he figured out the best ingredients.

* * *

Hitsugaya tugged on his captain's haori, ignoring the stammered apologizes from the slacking Soul Reapers as he passed by. Usually he would freeze their hands to their brooms on the spot, but he was in a hurry to a Captain's meeting.

Of course, that didn't mean he wouldn't freeze them after the meeting.

Striding forward fluidly, the youngest captain took a glance at a clock and bit back a curse. He knew first-hand the old man could lecture for _hours_ if even one of them were late. In his defense, it wasn't _his_ fault he had been on the other side of Seireitei when the Hell Butterfly drifted by.

A glance at a passing Reaper's watch. Two minutes till 3. Might as well use shunpo and save his fellow captains and himself from the Head Commander's ranting (you're welcome).

When he entered the hall, he was greeted with four empty spots in their ranks. Kyoraku Taicho had been sent out to the World of the Living for an assignment by C46 the other day, so that wasn't much of a shock. Two of their Vizard captains had been sent to Rukongai to eliminate some Hollows yesterday as well.

Hitsugaya mentally scowled. If they needed two of their strongest fighters to fight the Hollows, well, he wasn't too happy about Soul Society's security _just_ yet.

The last gap in their ranks was the 13th captain, but that was hardly unusual. The white haired shinigami was unfortunate to have been curse with an unstable medical condition, resulting in multiple skips in meetings. Though it was quickly turning into more of a blessing than anything else with the boring angle this meeting was going.

The meeting began and ended without much fanfare, to the surprise of absolutely none. Hisugaya turned to leave before remembering to drop a form for the Head Commander. Usually it was to be given by the Lieutenant, but surprise, surprise, Matsumoto busy making more sake stains on the office couch. _His_ couch he might add.

He knocked twice on Sou-Taicho's office and proceeded to enter just in time to see a Hell Butterfly float off his superior's fingertip.

"Sou-Taicho," he said, pulling up the piece of paperwork from his pocket. "I'm here to drop off th-"

"Hitsugaya."

The white-haired prodigy stopped and narrowed his eyes. Lately, though most tried to ignore it, the Sou-Taicho seemed tired. In the lay-down-and-sleep-forever type of tired. And now, looking at the new wrinkles on his face, Hitsugaya found it hard to connect the powerful military leader of Soul Society to the sagging old man before him.

"Swear to me-" there was a cough, "-that you will keep the peace in my stead."

The white-haired prodigy frowned. "Sou-Taicho, what-"

"Swear," he rasped, interrupting, "swear that you will make sure justice comes first. Because should you not, _he_ will raze Soul Society to ashes in his blind fury. Swear, _swear_ that you will follow the right side."

Ignoring the cold sweat on his back, Hitsugaya nodded. "I swear to it."

As if drawing fortitude from his oath, the Head Commander heaved himself back up into a commanding posture of one of his position. The air of weariness never fully left though.

And just like that, the old man proceeded onto business, leaving Hitsugaya very much confused.

It was only when he was back in his office that he learned of Kurosaki Karin's upcoming execution.

* * *

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